Though not staying in New York occurred to me while I was sitting in the lobby of Heights Marketing, as soon as I’m back out on the street, breathing in the fresh air—well, if not fresh air, at least outside air—the wheels in my mind begin to spin faster and faster, fleshing out my plan.

I can’t stay in New York.

I can move to another city, one that has definite possibilities. Seattle.

I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before now. My college roommate Jamie has wanted me to visit Seattle, where she’s lived since we graduated, ever since we were ordering our graduation gowns. She’d researched all the best spots for nightlife and had a list.

Jamie was a planner.

I’m positive she’ll let me stay with her while I find a place, although my innate determination has other ideas.

“I won’t need to stay with her,” I think. “I’ll line up my own place, and a job, before I even go.”

This time, I’m going to do this right.

I’ll even have a backup plan.

As soon as I’m off the subway, I send Jamie a message.

Sorry I’ve been MIA. Are you still down for a visit?

She texts me back before I’m even inside my building.

Yes!!! When? How long? I can’t wait to show you the city!

I smile down at my phone, feeling excited about something for the first time since I touched down in New York.

Still figuring out a few details. I’ll let you know. But SOON!

Step one is complete.

Then I remember that I walked out on the interview Carolyn set up for me. Step two: tell my roommate that not only am I planning to move, I totally blew off the interview she set up for me at the last minute.

I turn around, heading back out the revolving door at the entrance to our building. This occasion calls for wine.

* * *

Carolyn’s not thrilled to learn I didn’t go through with the interview, but in typical Carolyn fashion, she accepts my apology wine and moves on after a mere three minutes of irritation. Once I start planning my big move aloud, she joins in.

“It’s sad, though,” she says, halfway through the bottle of wine. “Even if you can be flaky, you’re a great roommate. It’ll be lonely without you.”

I wave my hand in the air. “You’ll be able to find a replacement.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Nah, I think if you go, I’ll keep the space to myself for a while.” At least there’s no guilt that Carolyn won’t be able to afford the rent. She affords most of it on her own anyway.

“I’m not sure when I’m leaving. Don’t get too excited.”

“I won’t. Want to order Chinese?”

* * *

Over the next few days, I start—as they say in the business world— “working my network.” Christian doesn’t love the idea that I’m moving to Seattle—he likes the challenge of setting me up with all his newest acquaintances, and ever since he lost his brother and did a stint in rehab, he’s been pretty protective—but he’s a good-natured guy with a gazillion contacts across the country, and he has an interview lined up for me in less than two weeks.

That’s a much faster timeline than I was expecting, but it makes planning that much more important.

I start hunting for an apartment, working with a realtor that Christian suggested who takes me on virtual tours of apartments with her iPhone. It takes two full days, but I narrow it down to three contenders.

I also start checking things off my New York bucket list—all the things I meant to do while I was here and never got around to. I take the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty and go to the Museum of Modern Art. I run my favorite loops in Central Park. Carolyn and I hit our favorite restaurants, and she takes a day off work so we can run wild around the city, eating at food carts and shopping for some eclectic stuff for my new place. She has better taste than I do. We’re picking through some items at an antique shop in the East Village when I realize how much I’m going to miss her. My eyes fill with tears.

When she sees me crying, she rubs my arm. “Don’t worry, Jess. You’ll be able to visit all the time!” Her voice is chipper, encouraging, but the corners of her mouth turn down a little as she turns to look away.

Everywhere we go, I still can’t help but look for Alec. When we pass the Bystander one evening on the way back from dinner, Carolyn points to the door. “Want to go in for one last round? That place was always one of your favorites, wasn’t it?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and looking across the street.

She furrows her brow. “You sure? You know, I can handle a bar that’s less upscale than the Swan.”

“It’s not that—.”

Then her expression changes, and I know she’s remembering that it’s where I first met Alec. “Oh, my God, how could I forget?” she says apologetically, then puts her hand on my elbow, picking up the pace. “Let’s go to that wine bar you like.”

“That wine bar is expensive.”

She slaps me lightly on the arm. “We both know that it’s my treat. You’re moving away soon—who else will I spoil once you’re gone?”

* * *

The days go by in a blur of packing, sorting, planning. Carolyn interrupts me in the middle of a two-hour decision marathon about my next appointment.

“Are you sure you’re into this?” she asks from the doorway to my bedroom.

“Yeah,” I say. “Why? Also, what do you think of this place? Should I go with the bigger one, or the one closer to my potential job?”

“For someone who hated the scheduling over in Saintland, you’re sure becoming a planner. Are you positive you’re not doing this instead of going back across the pond and kissing that sexy prince on the mouth one more time?”

“Yes,” I say stubbornly, jabbing a finger at the screen. “Apartments.”

But her words ring in my ears.

I shake them out. It’s too late for that now.